


Violent Delights

by kiboutozetsubou



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arson, M/M, arsonist!komaeda, firefighter!hinata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 07:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3602418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiboutozetsubou/pseuds/kiboutozetsubou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata thinks he loves Komaeda the way Komaeda loves fire—because it’s beautiful, and it will destroy everything, even the one who loves it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Violent Delights

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for a friend's birthday a few years back who jokingly asked me for firefighter!hinata/arsonist!komaeda and i fucking went with it. 
> 
> i glossed over the firefighter thing so bad though lmao pls ignore all of that

_Some say the world will end in fire,_  
_Some say in ice._  
_From what I’ve tasted of desire_  
_I hold with those who favor fire._  
\- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost

 

* * *

  

The clock reads 4:18 am when Hinata is startled awake by his cell phone vibrating violently on the nightstand. 

Confused and half-awake, he stretches a hand out to grab the phone and bring it to his face, blinking blearily at the light of the screen. He stares at the string of numbers across the screen, his muddled brain struggling to piece them together.

When it clicks, a knot forms in his stomach and he clenches his fist around the phone. Suddenly he’s wide awake. Heart thrumming in his ears, he answers the phone. “Hello?” 

His own voice sounds frantic but still clearly thick with sleep. The person on the other end lets out a quiet laugh. “I’m sorry, Hinata-kun. It looks like I woke you up again, didn’t I?” 

Hinata sits up and swings out of bed, clutching the phone to his ear. There are a thousand questions flowing through his mind, but what comes out of his mouth is, “Don’t act innocent. It’s 4 am, obviously you were going to wake me up.” 

The voice hums noncommittally. Hinata clenches his free hand around his bedsheets, anxious. For a few moments he hears nothing but breathing over the other line, and he strains to hear any background noise. Any indication of where he might be or what he’s doing. “Komaeda.” His voice comes out surprisingly even. “Why did you call?” 

As if he doesn’t know the answer. 

He can practically hear Komaeda’s sheepish grin. “Ah, I think you’re going to be angry with me, Hinata-kun.” 

Muttering a curse under his breath, Hinata gets up, groping around in the darkness for his shoes and keys. “Komaeda,” he says again, prompting. This time he knows Komaeda can hear the tremble in his voice, the fear behind the conviction. 

“I’m sorry.” Komaeda’s voice is little more than a whisper. “I’m sorry, Hinata-kun, I’ve done it again. But I can’t help it—it’s just so beautiful—”

Hinata rushes out the door, his heart in his throat. He hopes to God he isn’t too late. 

 

x

  

Hinata meets Komaeda on a cloudy April afternoon. The station radios him about a fire only a few blocks away from his apartment. He lives closer to the house than any of the other volunteer firefighters and he already had his equipment in his car that day, so he’s very early.

While he gets out of the car and surveys the burning building in front of him, a man hurries up to him. “Ah, you’re here early!” he says, and Hinata’s filled with an immediate sense of wrongness at how cheerful his voice sounds.

Turning to acknowledge the man, Hinata is met with a wide smile and even wider eyes the color of a storm. They stand in contrast to a wild head of snow white hair. Hinata thinks this strange-looking man has to be the one who reported the incident. He must just be cheerful because he’s relieved, then, that someone arrived to help.

There isn’t much Hinata can do on his own but he gets his equipment together. The white-haired man hovers next to him the entire time, silent but unnerving.

“Oh, but I hope everyone else takes their time getting here,” he babbles suddenly and Hinata stiffens. “I think I was too hasty this time. At this rate you might put it out before the second floor is completely destroyed! What a shame.”

The man sighs as though this is indeed a terrible shame and Hinata should share the same opinion. Hinata’s skin crawls. “What—what the hell are you talking about?” he stammers.

“Isn’t it obvious?” The man spreads his arms die and gestures to the house. “I set the house on fire! I’m sorry I’m putting you all through so much trouble to put it out, but really, I couldn’t help myself.”

Deeply unsettled, Hinata takes a step back. His fingers itch to grab his receiver and call for the others to hurry, but—that’d be no use. No doubt they’re already going as fast as they can.

“You’re crazy,” he says, like it’s a threat.

The man just smiles and sticks a hand out. The fire rages on behind him, black smoke billowing from the windows. The setting sun casts an eerie glow on the scene. “Komaeda Nagito,” he says.

Hinata stares at the hand.

It drops and Komaeda almost looks disappointed. “I thought we could be civil, since you’re going to be taking me away anyway. But I understand if you don’t want to shake hands with someone like me.

Hinata grits his teeth. “Is there anyone in that house?” The report he received had said there was no one, but that information likely had come from Komaeda himself, so who knows if he can trust it now. 

The smile is back on Komaeda’s face as he shakes his head. “Of course not. Killing them would defeat the purpose!”

Hinata waits for an explanation of what “purpose” he was trying to serve exactly, but it doesn’t come. And he’s really not about to humor this guy by asking. The way Komaeda explains his reluctance to kill as a convenience rather than a moral issue makes him really want to wipe that smile off his face—but he does nothing.

He doesn’t even say anything. He just waits, staring at Komaeda and trying to let this entire situation sink in. Meanwhile the house, bathed in sunset-orange, burns on. Komaeda turns to look at it and Hinata swears he looks downright reverent.

God, he is not being paid enough to deal with this shit.

Oh, that’s right, he isn’t even being paid at all.

He abruptly decides he doesn’t want to be here any longer. It’s making him sick. 

“Come with me,” he barks to Komaeda, who turns and blinks at him as though he just noticed his presence. 

“Where are we going?” he asks pleasantly. 

Hinata stomps to his car, Komaeda slowly following. “I can’t do anything with you here because now I have to keep an eye on you,” Hinata explains as he opens the driver’s door. “So I might as well drive you to the station so you can turn yourself in.” 

Komaeda just slips into the passenger’s seat and smiles agreeably. Already Hinata’s not surprised by his eccentric behavior. 

“I really am sorry to put you through all this trouble,” he says as they leave the cul-de-sac. 

Hinata quirks an eyebrow at him, but keeps his eyes on the road. “Yeah, whatever.”

“No, it’s unforgivable, really—I’m garbage and I’m wasting your time.”  

That gets Hinata to glance at him, if only for a moment. Komaeda’s staring out the window, a small frown on his face. As though sensing Hinata’s glance, he turns and smiles. “You seem like a very kind person. Thank you for being so nice to me.” 

And it’s wildly bizarre, because Hinata’s pretty sure he hasn’t spoken a word of kindness to this guy—but he guesses, considering the situation, he could have reacted much worse. Maybe this guy’s used to people treating him like shit or something, it might explain the self-deprecating attitude.

At the thought, a small part of him feels something dangerously akin to pity and he attempts to smother it immediately. 

Outwardly he frowns, brows drawn together in annoyance at himself. Komaeda must interpret it differently because Hinata can feel him shift away. “You don’t _have_ to be so nice to me, you know. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you weren’t. I don’t deserve kindness.” 

“Shut up,” Hinata mutters, but Komaeda either doesn’t hear him or pretends not to.

“Someone as full of hope and promise as you are—you’re much better than me, I can tell! You can treat me however you like,” he babbles. 

Not for the first time in this man’s presence, Hinata feels disturbed and unsettled. He begins to think what Komaeda really needs is not to go to prison but to a psych ward. 

Unwillingly he thinks of what might happen to someone like Komaeda in prison—someone who will let people do as they like with him. Bile rises up in his throat and he blocks the thought out of his mind. It’s not his problem. 

Normally that’s what he would tell himself. He would repeat it like a mantra in his head to drown out any semblance of guilt, and then he would drive straight to the police station and drop Komaeda off and never see him again. 

But the silence stretches on and there’s still something nagging in his gut. He feels strangely, awfully responsible for this man, this _boy_ who’s so obviously hopelessly out of his mind. Who set fire to a house just to watch it burn, and who now smiles and talks to Hinata like a dear friend.

Cursing himself, he purposely makes a wrong turn. 

He needs more time to think, so he can take the longer way to the station. Komaeda has no notable reaction to the change in direction, so he must not be familiar with the area. Instead he stares ahead, fingers idly toying with the fringe of his jacket, waiting for judgment. 

Hinata hates himself for the rest of the car ride. 

He hates himself even more when they near the police station and instead of turning into it, he drives directly past and asks Komaeda, “Where do you live?”

Komaeda looks completely baffled, but tells him his address. Then, “why?” 

“I’m taking you home,” Hinata says, with a wry, self-deprecating smile. “Looks like today’s your lucky day.”

For whatever reason Komaeda laughs like he’s never heard anything so hilarious. It’s wheezy, like his lungs are choking on smoke, and there’s a hysterical edge to it. “Lucky.” He says the word like he’s tasting it. 

“Yeah,” Hinata affirms, turning to head to Komaeda’s house. “Listen, you seem like an alright guy. Actually, you seem pretty fucking nuts, but—I think you feel sorry for what you did, so I’m going to give you a second chance. Okay?” 

Komaeda’s grin shines like a blade. “Yes.” 

“Just don’t do it again. I’m serious.” 

When they arrive at Komaeda’s house, he repeats the advice and—stupidly, so stupidly, saving lives for a living has really made him _too damn nice_ —gives Komaeda his phone number in case he has any trouble. He’s hoping if Komaeda thinks of doing something stupid, he’ll call Hinata instead and let him talk him out of it. 

“But if you do this again, I _will_ turn you in,” Hinata says as Komaeda clambers out of the car. 

“Of course.” Komaeda nods respectfully. “Thank you. I really don’t deserve a second chance—”

“I think everyone deserves a second chance,” Hinata cuts in. He isn’t sure why he says it, because until then he hadn’t ever considered that as a personal philosophy. He’s not a particularly compassionate person. But Komaeda is the perfect picture of sorrow and guilt—maybe not for setting houses on fire, but for something. 

It’s hard to hate someone who already hates themselves.

“But a second chance is all anyone gets,” he continues. “And that’s all I’m giving you. Just this once I’m letting you go, alright? Don’t ruin it.”

Komaeda smiles and nods and thanks him generously again before slipping off into his house. Hinata watches him go with a twist in his gut and acid in his throat. 

Just this once. 

It’s the first of so many lies he tells himself. 

 

x

 

Komaeda calls him when it happens again, two weeks later, and Hinata can’t bring himself to turn him in. 

He doesn’t even get as far as the police station this time; he just takes Komaeda straight home, and Komaeda doesn’t say a word about the broken promise, not even to thank him.

It almost makes Hinata believe he _wants_  to be caught and imprisoned, and Komaeda’s just mentally unstable enough for that to be plausible. But he just can’t do it. Even if Komaeda doesn’t care, _he_ does.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” he wonders aloud as he sits in the car in Komaeda’s driveway. Komaeda’s still next to him, for some reason. He’s hardly spared a glance at the pristine white house in front of them; his eyes are fixed on Hinata. 

“Nothing,” is what Komaeda says, and then he draws closer and Hinata goes rigid. “You’re the most beautiful and hopeful person I’ve ever met.” 

Hinata feels soft lips brushing his cheek, so light and quick he might have imagined it if he had even considered the action in the realm of possibility. Komaeda draws back and Hinata’s left gaping like a fish.

“Keep hoping for me, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda tells him, and then he’s gone. 

 

x

 

Several times later, for some reason Hinata can’t fathom, Hinata takes Komaeda back to his apartment and tells him to stay the night. They lie side by side on the bed; Hinata’s eyes are fixed on the ceiling, but he can feel Komaeda’s shoulder brushing up against him and he’s far more preoccupied by that than he should be.

“You know,” Komaeda says, after an eternity of silence. “I really hate what you do.”

The way he says it almost makes Hinata feel bad, which is so ridiculously ironic he has to stifle a laugh. God, what the hell is wrong with him?

“Don’t you feel it?” Komaeda continues. Hinata can feel his eyes burning into him and doesn’t dare turn his head. “When you put out the fire, you’re putting out hope. Can’t you feel the despair? That’s what you’re doing.”

Komaeda’s hand curls around his own. “I should hate you for that,” he whispers.

And Hinata should recoil away from the touch. He should reject Komaeda completely and never speak to him again. But he doesn’t.

Instead, as he always has, he tries to help. He turns, and, ignoring the shiver that runs down his spine as he locks eyes with Komaeda, says emphatically,“Fire isn’t hope, Komaeda. It’s destruction.”

Komaeda smiles like there’s no difference between the two.

And Hinata is reminded—though certainly not for the first time—that Komaeda is dangerous. The rational part of his brain screams at him to stop trying to reason with this madman, to turn him in or at the very least cast him out—but there’s another part, a kinder part. The part that took Komaeda away on that first night and kept him safe, and the part that now grips Komaeda’s hand like a lifeline. He can’t tell if it’s mercy or weakness. Perhaps it’s neither, or a catastrophic combination of the two.

 

x

 

“Have you ever put out a forest fire, Hinata-kun?” 

They’re in the woods this time, watching between the trees as another house burned on, flames igniting the black sky. The firemen arrived before they could get back to Hinata’s car, so they ran off into the dark, and as Hinata watches he can’t help but think it should be him out there, rushing around with them. 

Instead he’s curled up at Komaeda’s side, his knees damp from the cold muddy ground, hands scraping over loose branches as he contemplates Komaeda’s strange question. It seems irrelevant, but he knows by now that there’s a purpose to everything Komaeda asks him.

“Yes,” he says, turning to the (lost cold broken) boy beside him. 

Komaeda’s eyes are a tsunami, dark and tumultuous and passionate. “Do you remember the devastation?” he asks. “The scorched, blackened earth? The lifeless skeletal trees? The heavy smell of death and decay in the air?” 

His breathy voice makes the words sound like a prayer. Hinata swallows. “Yes.” 

“It’s awful.” Komaeda nods slightly, as if agreeing with himself. His eyes turn to the fire in the distance. “It’s ugly and despair-inducing. But you know what happens after that, don’t you? The trees grow back greener, the grass grows back thicker, the air smells sweeter. The forest _thrives_. And it’s more beautiful than ever.” 

The words should be disturbing, and they are, really—but Hinata finds himself caught by the hitch of excitement in Komaeda’s voice, and the pale shine of his hair, illuminated in the moonlight. He thinks there’s something to the idea of dangerous things being the most beautiful.

“And that’s what you’re trying to do,” he says, like it’s a statement, in no need of clarification. “Make it more beautiful.” 

Komaeda grins. “Hope comes out of destruction, Hinata-kun. The fire destroys everything, yes. But what could be more beautiful, more wonderful, than the hope and determination that come out of such a dismal situation? All I want is to bring out the best in these people, Hinata-kun.” He gestures wildly to the blazing house. “I want to see their hope, burning brighter than the fire of despair!” 

As always, Hinata doesn’t know what to say. He can’t understand Komaeda at all, no matter how much he tries. There’s a rationale behind his actions, but then again there _isn't_ , at all. His mind is a magnificent, tragic mess of good intentions and grandiose delusions. Trying to wrap his head around that is like trying to catch smoke.

He doesn’t say any of this out loud, of course. He just reaches out and pulls Komaeda close—fingers tangled in his jacket and warm breath on his face and wide, curious eyes burning into his soul—just to know he won’t slip through his fingers. 

 

x

 

“Hajime,” he says, _Hajime_ , it’s the first time he’s ever said it and a jolt runs through Hinata’s stomach, “Hajime, can I kiss you?”

Hinata’s mouth opens but no words escape. He can’t bring himself to answer.

He can feel Komaeda stiffen beside him. “I’m sorry, I know it’s awful, someone like _me_ asking to do that with someone like _you_. It’s disgusting for me to even think about it. It’s selfish, but I wanted—”

“Shut the hell up,” Hinata snaps, and before he knows what he’s doing his hand is in Komaeda’s hair, tugging him forward, and then their mouths are crushed together and time feels fuzzy after that, his brain like static.

There isn’t much moonlight spilling through the window so he can’t see. But he tastes the sharp sweetness of Komaeda’s mouth. He breathes in and smells the soap and pine and ash on his pale skin. He feels cool satin sheets and a warm body against his. And as he runs his hands against it, he hears a breathy gasp that ignites a fire in his insides.

This fire isn’t going to go out. It’ll burn until it consumes him.

 

x

 

It’s 4:35 by the time Hinata finds the house. There’s snow on the ground and vaguely he remembers that it’s his birthday. This thought would’ve made him laugh if he didn’t feel like he might vomit if he did so. 

It’s a mansion on a hill with the longest driveway Hinata’s ever seen, and there aren’t any other houses around. The perfect place to commit arson, he can’t help but think. No one will notice for quite a while, maybe not even until the house is already completely destroyed—they should have plenty of time to get away.

There’s a time when he tried to remind himself that Komaeda deserves to be caught. That he destroys not just people’s houses but their _homes_ —their properties, their identities, their securities. 

He doesn’t think about that anymore. 

Now he frequently wakes up to tormenting nightmares of being too late, of watching Komaeda coming out of the house handcuffed and being carted off to prison for life—or worse, not coming out of the house at all. 

These nightmares are flashing behind his eyes as he runs up to the mansion, yelling Komaeda’s name. 

He’s not outside, in front of the house with his arms outstretched and a manic gleam in his eyes—like he usually is. He’s not there and the realization makes Hinata feel cold despite the scorching flames just feet away from him. 

He runs to the back door and, ignoring just about everything he ever learned or practiced about fire safety, yanks the door open with his bare hands. Vaguely he’s aware of white-hot pain shooting through his hands as he touches the knob, but he ignores it and makes his way inside.

Smoke fills his lungs and his eyes as he steps through the door, making him cough violently. There’s fire but the creaking above him tells him that much of the fire is on the second floor. Covering his mouth with his sleeve, he races to check all of the rooms and stops in his tracks as he finds an ash-covered figure in the living room.

Komaeda turns to him with a grin and says something that Hinata can’t hear over the roar of the flames all around. Hinata steps closer. “What?”

“This was the house I grew up in,” Komaeda repeats. His voice is even more cracked than usual but that only serves to worsen the cold shiver that runs down Hinata’s spine at his words.

“Why?” he asks, knowing Komaeda will understand.

Komaeda laughs and it sounds like he’s dying. “Why not?” 

Hinata knows that’s his way of saying ‘I don’t know,’ and the realization terrifies him. Komaeda always knows why he does things, even if the reasons don’t make any sense to anyone else.

“Come on, let’s go,” Hinata says hurriedly, reaching for Komaeda’s hand.

But Komaeda’s unyielding. His fingers tighten around Hinata’s but his feet are planted firmly, shoulders squared. “I can’t,” he says.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Hinata snaps. “Let’s get the hell out of here! What’s the point of all that hope bullshit if you’re not around to see it?”

Grey eyes widen and in them Hinata can see the reflection of the flames. “I don’t care about my _life_ , Hinata-kun,” Komaeda says as though he’s correcting him about the color of the sky.

It hurts, not because it’s surprising. But because Komaeda doesn’t care enough and Hinata cares _too_  much and how did this all get so fucked up?

“I think it’s time for this to end,” Komaeda goes on, thoughtfully, easily. “And I think we both always knew how it would end, didn’t we?”

A part of Hinata whispers, yes. But another part screams that this is all wrong and why doesn’t Komaeda see that he’s only ever been trying to save him? 

But if he’s honest with himself, he knew all along that Komaeda never wanted to be saved.

Komaeda watches him and it takes Hinata a few moments to realize that he’s waiting for Hinata to leave.

And if he wants to, he’ll do it now. The ceiling is groaning and tackling above them and the air is filled with black smoke thick enough to choke. The fire around them is creeping closer and Hinata can feel the heat singeing his sleeves. Komaeda is gazing at it with a perfect mixture of reverence and fear and Hinata’s heart clenches at the familiarity of that look.

Hinata thinks he loves Komaeda the way Komaeda loves fire—because it’s beautiful, and it will destroy everything, even the one who loves it.

So it’s only appropriate, then, that they’re both destroyed by what they love.

He steps closer and wraps his arms around Komaeda’s neck, tangling his fingers in the soot-covered hair at his nape. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says and Komaeda’s answering smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t care if you think I deserve more than this. I can’t leave.”

I can’t leave _you_ , is what he really means, but he can’t say it, even now.

Komaeda’s quiet as his arms come to wrap around Hinata and Hinata takes that as acceptance.

Wispy hair tickles his skin as Komaeda buries his face in the crook of his neck. “Happy birthday, Hinata-kun,” he whispers and Hinata’s throat catches, full of smoke, and he makes a wheezing noise like laughter.

They stay like that until the ceiling caves in on them.

 

* * *

 

 _These violent delights have violent ends_  
_And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,_  
_Which, as they kiss, consume_  
\- Romeo  & Juliet 

 

 


End file.
